“Yes, of course. Anything else?”

“Yes,” she said, looking up into the square well that was formed by the riad’s walls. “We are going to need to improve security. I want cameras up on the roof and in the alleyway outside. And motion sensors, too. Do you know anyone?”

“Yes, I do. A soldier I served with has started a home security business. I can ask him.”

“That’s good. Money isn’t a problem. We need to make it much more difficult if anyone decides to pay us a visit. It’s too easy at the moment. We can’t afford that.”

“How likely is it that they will come?”

She sighed, feeling the knot of tension in her gut. “They’re coming, Mohammed. It’s just a question of when.”

Chapter Six

Beatrix slept fitfully, her dreams stalked by fear. She woke several times, and with the clock showing four-thirty, the pain in her bones was such that she knew it was pointless to try and get back to sleep again. She took the blister pack of morphine tablets from her pack and swallowed two. There were only three left. She was going to have to go back to the doctor and get more. She sat in the bath for half an hour until the first infusion of dawn had lightened the sky that was framed by the walls of the riad. Then she dressed in black trousers and a black, sleeveless T-shirt with a thick, cable-knit jumper that she would discard when the temperature started to climb.

She stopped in the armoury. Abdullah had been as good as his word and the equipment had already been delivered. There were three crates of oranges and lemons stacked against the wall in the courtyard, and Mohammed was in the process of uncovering the weapons that had been hidden beneath the bed of straw upon which the fruit rested.

“Good morning, Miss Beatrix.”

“How is it?”

He spread his arms. “It all looks very good.”

He cleared an armful of oranges away and took out the TAR-21 that she had ordered. It was a futuristic bullpup assault rifle that had been designed for the Israeli infantry. She took it from him and hefted it in both hands. The bolt carrier group was placed behind the pistol grip to shorten the length of the rifle without sacrificing barrel length. The size of the rifle was perfect for turning corners in urban warfare. It would be perfect for fighting in confined spaces, too.

Spaces like the riad.

They uncovered the rest of the order.

There was an MK249 with a dozen one-hundred-round, soft-pack ammo bags, together with three additional box mags and a Surefire suppressor.

A Mossberg 500 shotgun.

An M110 sniper rifle with bi-pod.

Three dozen flash-bang and fragmentation grenades.

A crate of Claymore anti-personnel mines.

“I’ll check everything,” Mohammed said.

“Thank you. Is the jeep ready?”

“It is in the usual place.”

“There was an MP-5 in the order . . .”

“It is in the armoury. Would you like me to get it for you?”